


20) Turning points

by Munnin



Series: Hugin Chronicles [20]
Category: Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 20:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11585190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Decisions about the future bring the Grey Jedi, Rus sisters, and Red Mist into conflict.





	20) Turning points

**Author's Note:**

> Red Mist Squad based on characters created by Joe Hogan for the [ The Siren of Dathomir](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3z0kyf53Ds) and [ Panic Over Muunilinst ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3-_EnhMEDE). Stolen, run away with, and abused with his permission.
> 
> The Grey Jedi and Odd Squads are original characters based on members of the CSWCC. The original Argument’s End series can be found [here](http://munnin.dreamwidth.org/tag/grey+jedi+verse).

Fordo went straight to the ship, knowing where his men would be. The squad could no more stomach inactivity than he could. And they all had a lot of energy and stress to burn after their fight. 

And the ship would need work. Skate wouldn’t be able to leave that alone. And Jat wouldn’t be able to leave Skate alone. Chances were, nor would the rest of them. 

They would be drawn together like particles in freefall, bound by forces greater than themselves. 

And they were exactly where he expected them to be, already stripping and replacing torn hull plates. 

Ridley gave Fordo a wave as he came to join them. “What’s the word, Captain?”

“Tank time, for both of them.” Fordo answered, frowning as Wrathor settled on the ship’s extended ramp. “Wrath, what are you doing?”

“Feeding the kittens, sir?” Wrathor answered without hesitation, juggling a little black ball of fluff and a bottle of pale blue milk. 

“I’d forgotten all about them.” Fordo set his bucket down to sit down next to the heavy. 

Linc shrugged, coming out of the ship with the other kitten, this one riding his shoulder and purring loudly. “Crispy thought they were important enough to save. Figured that made them our responsibility.”

“Do we know what they are yet?” Fordo asked, to keep a straight face as the kitten on Linc’s shoulder starts grooming the support officer’s short hair. 

“Other than baby ones of the big creatures that attacked Crispy and-” Wrathor cut himself off before he said Hugin, “Tahl? No, not really. One of the Odds support team is running a genetic match for us but they were able to find food that was safe for them.”

“They’re mammals.” Linc explained, “It’s a universal constant that mammals drink some form of milk as young. They ran a match close enough for these little ones to digest.” 

The kitten in Wrathor’s arms yawned wide, little needle teeth showing behind it’s milk moustache.

Fordo shook his head. “They’ll grow up to be very large carnivores. We can’t keep them. You know that.”

Every member of the squad protested. Loudly enough for Fordo to have to hold his hands up for silence. “When the genetic match comes back and we know more about them, we’ll discuss what happens next for them. But there’s no place in war for pets.” 

He could just about hear them fume. “Besides,” He went on. “They don’t belong to us. Crispy rescued them, they’re his problem.”

“Yeah but-” Wrathor reasoned, a little pleadingly, “We get to look after them till he gets out of the tank, right?”

Fordo could tell this was a fight he was not going to win. “Till then, we work on the ship and make whatever repairs and restocks we need. We have orders and as soon as Crispy’s fighting fit, we leave.”

Red Mist looked at each other, none of them brave enough to ask the question – What about Hugin?

***

D’rue left it two days before approaching Captain Fordo, aware relations between Red Mist and the crew of the End had been strained since the mission. “Captain, I think there’s a conversation that needs to be had.”

“No. No, there isn’t.” Fordo put down his datapad and rounded on the Jedi commander. “There’s nothing more that needs to be said. You have what you want. I’ve read Hugin’s medical reports. Unfit for Active Duty. I’m sure your medical people can replace his arm but he’s UAD.”

D’rue stepped in, his voice harsh as he fronted the captain. “No-one wanted this, Captain. No-one wanted to see him hurt. Him or anyone else. We were asked to step in by the council. Because they knew we’d find a solution.” 

The Jedi forced himself to lower his shoulders, trying to blunt his confrontational tone. “I’ve seen his medical reports too. Global psychogenic amnesia. He doesn’t know himself before a year ago. All his training, all the programing they put into him; gone. That sort of psychological damage is not reversible. Not by any means we have. He could never have returned to active duty. Even with the arm.”

“So what happens now?” Fordo demanded, arms crossed. 

“That’s what we need to talk about.” D’rue countered. “The Council may have given us discretion, but it’s you and yours who need to make the decision. Red Mist, and the Rus sisters.”

Fordo felt anger rise in him. Part of him wanted to blame the two civilians for what happened to Hugin. But he knew he couldn’t. As Crispy had said, the clone currently resting in the Bacta tank wasn’t Hugin. Hugin had died on Kamino. Tahl had been born somewhere else. Some other way than in a cloning vat. 

And judging by his scars, Tahl had been born in pain and in darkness. 

“Aright.” Fordo relented, forcing himself to relax his hands out of fists. “We’ll sit down with the Rus sisters.” 

“Good.” D’rue nodded. “Conference room in ten. Bring as much of your squad as you see fit.”

***

Sera watched the room fill up, watching the group dynamics in where people sat, how they held themselves. 

Red Mist stood in one corner, formed up behind their captain, who was the only one of them to sit. Eva Rus sat herself squarely opposite Frodo, her expression bluntly challenging. Rebec sat at her side, half turned away and towards the door as if there was somewhere else she’d rather be. From what Sera had heard, she pretty much hadn’t left the medbay since they’d let her in.

Sera’s own squad – Tori, Lark, and Zig, representing Technical, Medical, Tactical respectively scattered about the room, comfortable here as in their own bunks. Although she noticed Lark put himself closer to Red Mist’s medic than anyone else, fiddling with a hololink that gave Crispy eyes and ears, and most importantly, a voice in the proceedings from his bacta tank. 

Tem stood at D’rue back in the furthest corner of the room from the door, effectively giving them both a complete view of the room and a solid wall at their back. 

Lines of allegiance, of trust and distrust. Unspoken commentary written across clenched jaws, tight shoulders, and carefully closed expressions. 

Part of her was tempted to sit cross-legged in the middle of the conference table just to shake them all up. 

With a shake of the head, she put aside the thought and strode into the room, taking charge before the atmosphere became any more loaded. “Lark, Fernie – can you fill us in on Tahl’s medical condition please?” She took her own seat, casually diagonal to D’rue, where they could read each other out of the corner of their eyes.

Lark nodded and gestured invitingly to Fernie, letting him take the lead. A gesture not lost of the gratified Red Mist medic who cleared his throat to start. “The damage to his arm was extensive – transhumoral amputation. Above the elbow joint.” He clarified, looking to Lark.

Lark picked up smoothly, two halves of a united whole as only medical staff could be. “Fortunately, due to Crispy’s swift actions, there’s minimal nerve damage. We’re very hopeful he’ll be able to take a prosthetic with minimal risk of rejection. To that end, we had started the grafting peripheral into the wound. It will extend his tank time by a few days but it should mean a clean transition when he gets out. All things according to plan, he should have a working arm within the fortnight.”

“And his other injuries?” Fordo demanded. 

Lark have Fordo an apologetic look. “The damage to his vocal cords is irreparable. It’s just too late. Even if he’d been able to reach a Republic medical facility at the time it happened, I still not sure they could have given him back his voice.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “There are procedures that will soften the scar tissue and reduce the chronic pain it must be causing him.”

Rebec paled at that. “He never said he was in pain.” She whispered, half to herself as she looked to her sister. “He never complained. Why didn’t we know?”

“Because he’s one of us.” Fordo said firmly. “Troopers don’t complain. We push through.”

It wasn’t a comforting answer and the younger woman looked as if she was on the brink of tears.

Linc continued, filling the recriminating silence. “As for his memory loss-”

D’rue held a hand up. “I think we’re all on the same page there.”

Fordo scowled at him, the air between them thick enough to cut. 

Sera ignored them, carrying on. “Strategically, we’re clear. We have conformation from Fidelis Squad that their ruse worked. What was left of the Separatists followed them into hyperspace and flew straight into a Republic blockade. The immediate threat has been neutralised.”

There was a general sigh of relief, even from Red Mist. The fight on the ground had only been half the battle and even if they had not taken part in the clean-up, it was good to know it had been finished and finished well.

Sera nodded and went on. “And thanks to Eva’s contacts on Silvestri VII, we’ve been able to deal with the propaganda machine as well. One of the firefighting droids captured a low-rez holo-scan of Crispy and Tahl falling from the waterfall. It’s grainy and rough but that was to our advantage. Tori’s team have tinkered with it a bit to make the fall look fatal and a contact of mine has leaked it to the Separatist holo-channels. They’re claiming it as a victory. The Butcher of Malastare has been declared dead. Now, I know none of us like to see the Seps claim a win but in this case, I think we can live with it.” 

“So, what happens now?” Eva demanded, looking around the room. This wasn’t her world. Politics and war, orders and intrigue. All she wanted was her family safe. “What happens to Tahl?”

There was an uncomfortable silence around the table. The sound of many people carefully not being the first to speak. 

Lark broke that silence. Facts at least were easy. “He’ll need another week in the tank. And as I said, another week to be sure the prosthetic has taken.” He glanced to Rebec. “As much as I hate to suggest it, I would recommend removal of his skin paint, to make him less recognisable.”

Linc nodded, addressing himself to the younger of the two women. “It is how we found you, after all.” 

Rebec looked from Lark to Linc, and then to Sera. “That’s up to him, not me.” Her eyes lingered on Fordo, as if there was more she wanted to say but couldn’t. 

“After that,” Lark went on, “I recommend at least another two weeks’ convalescence, to make adjustments and be sure he’s fully recovered.” He glanced around the table. “Unless there’s another issue pressing?”

Fordo cleared his throat meaningfully. “We have orders to rendezvous with the 212th Battalion. We leave as soon as Crispy’s cleared for duty.” 

Eva’s fists hit the table. “All that talk of taking him back and now that things are hard, you’re leaving?” Her words came out as pure vitriol. 

“Yes, we’re leaving.” Fordo was on his feet, leaning across the wide table, his voice sharp as a blade. “We have orders. And obeying orders is what we do. Besides,” he glared at D’rue and Sera, “Hugin’s fate has already been decided. And we have no say in it.”

“Yes, captain.” D’rue intoned calmly. “You do.”

Sera cut in, her voice calm and reasonable. “You’re right, captain. His fate has been decided. Not by anyone here but by what’s happened to him. By the incident that resulted in him being missing in action, by the events that led him to Silvestri VII, by the life he lived there, and by everything that has happened in this last week. Who he is now, is not who he was then. You and I both know he can no-longer serve as a trooper of the Republic. But as his commanding officer, it’s in your hands what becomes of him now.” 

Fordo looked around the room. Rebec’s expression was pleading, just as Eva looked on the verge of an outraged explosion. 

They had fought so hard to get him back. Risked so much. Because he was their brother. Because he was a part of them. A wound that wouldn’t heal. 

But he was found now. And yet he was still gone. A scar the squad would always carry. And Crispy worst of all. But it Crispy’s own words, the man they saved was a stranger. A stranger in Hugin's body.

He let out a slow breath, feeling the air sucked away from him by the expectant silence. “It would seem to me,” he started, marvelling at the levelness of his own words, “that Tahl would best serve the Republic by personally protecting the Rus sisters.” 

He turned to walk away as Rebec burst into relieved tears, Red Mist following him out.

It was done. Time to move on.


End file.
